


ivory cinderblocks

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, that's it that's all it is, you know what this is? this is me being sad about twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:27:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5604916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Tumblr oneshot collection, tags and characters will be added as they become relevant.)</p><p>Current: Dipper's got a guilt complex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. sweaters

She flops down beside Dipper in a flurry of sweater and dark, curly hair.

 

He doesn’t notice Mabel’s presence. She’s quiet when she wants to be, and Dipper’s face is buried in his sweater - it’s the navy blue one she knitted for him at the beginning of the summer, with the Big Dipper on it. He only wears it when he’s feeling really down.

 

It’s time… for _Big Sister Mabel_ to come out.

 

“What’s up, bro-bro?”

 

He doesn’t jolt, or anything. He doesn’t even acknowledge her presence, other than curling in on himself a little more.

 

Oh. It’s going to be _That_ Way.

 

Mabel scoots beside him, real close, and leans against him. “Am I allowed into Dipper Town? Or are you _excluding_ me?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dipper mumbles, immediately. It’s so quick it’s nearly instinctual, a knee-jerk reaction to the word _excluding_.

 

Mabel retracts, frowning. He’s never reacted like that before; usually, it’s all cute indignation, and then he tells her what’s up and they fix it and it’s no big deal. So what is he apologizing for?

 

“For what, Dip?”

 

Dipper’s thin shoulders shrug. “I dunno.”

 

“There’s gotta be something, Dipper.”

 

“I just… I dunno,” Dipper sighs.

 

“Talk to me, bro-bro,” she says. “I miss my nerdy, dweeby l’il brother.”

 

Dipper sighs, heavily, like he’s barely breathing. “I’m still here.”

 

“You’re all… sad,” Mabel says.

 

“I’m sorry,” Dipper says.

 

There’s a pit growing in her stomach - she doesn’t like the way he’s saying it. It’s soft, barely spoken, a word in a whisper.

 

“For what?”

 

“… I’ve,” Dipper heaves a breath, “I’ve been an awful brother, Mabel. I’m really, really sorry. I wish I could take all of it, all of it, back.”

 

Okay, okay, this she can handle - she knows what’s up. She’s got this.

 

“Oh,” Mabel says. “Dipper, you’ve already apologized a thousand-million-gajillion times, I forgive you.”

 

Dipper pulls his head out of his sweater, and doesn’t say anything else.

 

 _He looks awful_ , Mabel thinks. He looks like he hasn’t slept right in a few weeks and the bruises on the side of his face are still raw, but the worst part are his watering eyes - he’s crying. 

 

The thing about Dipper Pines is that he doesn’t cry easy; he gets upset like every other human, but rarely, _rarely_ does he ever cry.

 

 _This is bad_ , she thinks. 

 

“We all make mistakes, Dippin’ Dots,” she says. “It’s a part of living! We all get stupid.”

 

“Not as bad as I do,” Dipper says. “I kind of nearly ended the world, Mabel.”

 

“… That wasn’t your fault,” Mabel says. “Why do you think it’s your fault?”

 

“‘Cause everything is.”

 

“That’s - that’s a lie!” Mabel says. “Lying liar, ducks on fire!”

 

“It’s true!” Dipper shouts. “I’m the reason the rift was broken, I should’ve hid it better, I should’ve known that I couldn’t deal with it, and it’s my fault you were upset, and it’s my fault you didn’t know what it was, it’s my fault this whole mess started in the first place, and if I had just been a better brother -”

 

His arms are thrown wide by the end of it, and he’s standing up, looking down on Mabel and heaving thick breaths like he’s trying to catch oxygen in the steel trap he’s turned his chest into.

 

Dipper’s eyes dart over Mabel, the way she’s leaning back, the hand that’s lifted in the air as if he was about to attack her - he knows that he scared her, there.

 

Dipper sighs, and shrugs deeper into his sweater, and when he sits down it’s a good foot away from where he’d been earlier.

 

 _Ugh_ , Mabel thinks. _You’re so difficult._

 

“Sorry,” Dipper says. “It’s, uh, yeah. Sorry.”

 

Mabel scoots down the porch until she’s pressed against his side - it’s weird. She’s used to being the be-sweater-ed one, but now they’re both donning fuzzy threads of comfort.

 

“I know why you wear that sweater,” she blurts, because it occurred to her no less than a second ago.

 

“Why?” Dipper asks. “I mean, uh, why do you think I wear it?”

 

“You only wear it when you’re upset,” Mabel says. “You wear it because I made it, and I make you happy, right?”

 

Dipper smiles, green eyes darting over to her. “You do.”

 

And, well - that just makes her feel warm and fuzzy, doesn’t it?

 

“Guess what,” Mabel whispers.

 

“What?” Dipper whispers back.

 

“You make me happy, too,” she says. “I don’t like it when you get all guilty. It’s not true. I’m the expert on Dipper Pines, and what I say, goes! You’re not a bad brother ‘cause you screwed up once. You’re not even a bad guy, Dipper, you’re a hero! Look at all the people you’ve saved!”

 

Mabel leans her head on his bony shoulder. “I couldn’t ask for a better brother.”

 

Dipper’s breath catches, but he says, “Thanks, Mabel,” anyway.


	2. prerequisite to happenstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, the thinking goes, that if that one little thing just keeps happening, it's never gonna stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for depression and suicide.
> 
> This is literally just a vent piece? I'm sorry???

After a tense drive home, Stan sits Mabel and Dipper down and asks, "All right, which one of you started it?"

 "Me," Dipper says. The word falls, unbidden, unasked, from his tongue. 

 Mabel side-eyes him, but she's got nothing to attest it with. So she nods. "He was mad about me taking his book as a prop -" 

 "I ruined her play," Dipper says. "It's my fault. I'm sorry." 

 

 - 

 

Wendy's asleep at the cash register when her body winds like a coil. Dipper doesn't notice - he's restocking t-shirts. 

He does notice, though, when her leg flies out and flips the stool she’s on. 

He whirls around, watching Wendy scramble away with nothing but fear in her eyes - the gift shop is rank with the scent of it. 

"Sh-shapeshifter," bubbles out of Wendy's lips. 

"You're the shapeshifter, you're not real, you're not Dipper -" and the muscles in his body wind tighter. 

He crouches beside her, and splays his hands, fingers shaking. Wendy eyes them with bloodshot, bulging eyes, and her body reacts on its own: she punches Dipper in the stomach. 

 She seems to come to herself when he lets out a choked noise, his still-shaking hands covering his damaged solar plexus. 

 "Oh, dude, my b-bad," she stammers. "I didn't mean to -" 

 "It's my fault," Dipper says. "I'm sorry." 

 

 - 

 

Soos is hunched forward, arms crossed over his stomach. He's nearly crying. 

Dipper feels caught, wound in a fishing net - he's halfway in the door, halfway out. Caught between the breakroom and the hall. He's not sure what to do next. 

Soos's eyes find him, somehow, and pale tears slip down his face. "Oh, dude, I was just - I was just -" 

 Dipper licks his lips, nervously preparing them for what he says next: "You're not... you're not thinking about your dad, are you?" 

 "I was thinkin' ... I was thinkin' that, you and Mabel, you little dudes... you're little," Soos says, gesticulating wildly. "That day, with the robot, you guys could've -" 

Dipper blinks. "We didn't." 

"And all this stuff you guys do, the Mystery Twins, the monster hunting -" Soos snaps his mouth shut. "You dudes aren't careful enough." 

 Dipper can barely speak - he's wired with an emotion he can't name. "It's my fault," he rasps. "I'm sorry." 

 

 - 

 

Dipper's heart fumbles a step when he notices the rug - emblazoned with a golden triangle. His feet tumble over themselves, and he crashes into a rack of over-priced t-shirts, and they come crashing down. 

 "Watch it!" Stan snaps. 

 "It's my fault," Dipper sighs. "I'm sorry." 

 

 - 

 

Mabel's sitting upright in bed, head spinning around the room. "Whaa..? What's happening?" 

Dipper gulps, and prods at the shattered glass on the floor with a socked foot. "It's okay, Mabel. Go back to sleep." 

 "What happened?" 

 Night terror would be an acceptable answer - fear so hot and viral that he lashed out and knocked down the latern slung on a hook by his bed. 

 "Nothing," he whispers. "Don't worry; it's my fault. I'm sorry." 

 

 - 

 

Mabel's still rubbing tears out of the corner of her eyes when Stan launches in to his backstory. 

Dipper's hand searches for hers, but she moves it to her lap. Denied. 

Dipper slumps his shoulders, and whispers to her, "It's my fault. I'm sorry."

 

- 

 

Ford's surveying the destroyed mind-encryption machine when Dipper finds him. 

"I don't think we can save it," Ford sighs. "Alas, that was another useful barrier against Bill." 

"It's my fault," Dipper says. "I'm sorry." 

 

 - 

 

Ford's twirling the cracked rift. 

"It's my fault," Dipper says. "I'm sorry." 

 

 - 

 

Mabel wakes up, not sure what's real and what isn't. 

"It's my fault. I'm sorry." 

Stan, Wendy, Soos - they all have PTSD. 

"It's my fault. I'm sorry." 

There are funerals. There are reparations. 

"It's my fault. I'm sorry." 

The words, by now, come out tired and rehearsed. They're well-worn. They've seen a lot of use, they're thin by it, haggard and no longer useful - they're just words, and words can't explain what it's like for everything to always be your fault.

They don’t go noticed. They’re said so much that they’ve become a creeping normality. 

But you know what they say about a caged bird.

 

-

 

_(a couple years later, he stuffs pills down his throat one by one by eight, and sure as hell, the note in his cold fingers says, “it’s my fault. i’m sorry.”_

_they’re noticed then.)_

**Author's Note:**

> This is me procrastinating on TBMR and being sad about twins. (all prompts from jerseydevious.tumblr.com)


End file.
